


Rivamika Semi-NSFW Prompt Challenge

by alienheartattack (Sanneke)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanneke/pseuds/alienheartattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets based off of a Tumblr meme full of somewhat NSFW prompts. Because of that, ficlet #5 is the only one that's actually somewhat explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sexting

Taking a naked selfie, Mikasa realizes, is a lot more difficult than she thought. There’s the issue of lighting: too harsh in the bathroom, too dim in the bedroom. She has to choose an angle, a pose, how much of her body to include, how much of her face. The whole production seems like a lot of work for a single image to make her boyfriend smile in the middle of the day.

“Send me something while I’m at work,” Levi told her before leaving the house that morning. “It’s going to be a shitty day.”

Mikasa wrinkled her nose. “I text you all the time already.”

“Yeah, but, you know…” he trailed off. He only ever does this when talking about sex; he can talk at length about his bowel movements, but for some reason the idea of talking about fucking his long-term live-in girlfriend is still distasteful to him.

“You want me to send you something dirty?” she asked, a lazy smile unfurling across her lips. He didn’t answer, only winked at her as he closed the door.

She wants it to be good but, knowing Levi, he’ll be happy with a blurry photo of half of her nipple. So she poses and contorts, takes pictures of herself in the full-length mirror in their bedroom, then writhing on their bed. She considers taking a picture of herself in the shower, but decides she doesn’t want to risk getting her phone wet.

Upon review, the grid of photos on her phone looks ludicrous: a series of pictures of her, her mouth half-open in an expression somewhere between sexy and concussed, her back arched, offering herself. In some of them she has the tip of her tongue pressed against her upper lip, or she’s sucking on one finger.

Mikasa hates them all. So she picks one at random, one where she’s leaning over, jutting her breasts forward toward the camera, a dark wing of hair covering one eye. She is wearing her red scarf and nothing else.

When she tries to hit send, she misses the button because her hand is shaking. Mikasa chides herself for being so insecure - Levi asked for this, after all - but there’s a part of her that feels ripped apart and wide open even though he’s seen her naked thousands of times.

She doesn’t even put her clothes back on as she waits for his reply, just sits there cross-legged on their bed, staring at the blank screen. When her phone finally beeps three minutes later, she jumps.

His entire message consists of one emoji: a grinning anthropomorphic pile of shit. It’s the only one he ever uses.

“I’m going to kill him,” she growls to herself, but she is more mad at herself than at him for expecting anything less. He loves that stupid graphic.

“Thats all u have to say?” she texts back with a winking face, hoping he’ll take the hint.

Thirty seconds later, he responds with an army of poop emojis, row after row after row of shit.

And then thirty seconds after that: “Obviously I loved it, dummy. Don’t get dressed - I’ll be home in 10.”

Followed by another shit emoji, naturally.


	2. Playing Footsie in a Meeting

One minute Levi is recapping intelligence he’s received from Erwin regarding some royalist sympathizers hiding within the Survey Corps. The next he is distracted, completely forgetting what he was trying to say. Something about… something?

The culprit: a soft pressure against his shin, reaching around to his calf, then moving slowly upward to his knee, skating over the tight bundle of muscle in his thigh.

“As I was saying,” he intones, compensating for his quickening breath, “Erwin wants us to split up and join other squads under the guise of providing additional training. From there, you’ll report back to me with anything you may find.”

The squad starts talking amongst themselves in overlapping worried murmurs. All of them, that is, except Mikasa, who looks at Levi with a bored expression. One corner of her mouth turns up when he catches her eye.

“All right, all right,” Levi says, bringing the squad back to order. “Any ideas for subtle intelligence gathering?”

Thankfully, Armin takes the bait. For someone so smart, Levi thinks, the kid does not seem to realize a blatant attempt to take the squad’s gazes off of him and onto the little strategist. It just seems untoward to address his squad while Mikasa is rubbing her foot over his cock, teasing him until he is rock hard.

This must be payback, he thinks, for telling Mikasa not to leave love bites all over his neck, for telling her to be more discreet about their affair. He should mind her petty revenge, but her foot massaging up and down his lengthening shaft feels too damn good. He reminds himself to have a stern talk with her later, then tries to decide if threatening to fuck her until she can’t speak is hot or creepy. He still hasn’t been able to walk that line successfully.

Mikasa must see that he is distracted because she lifts herself in her chair, trying to reach further under the table than her leg will allow, to gain more access to him. But she miscalculates the slickness of the recently polished floor and she slips, her body jolting forward and her foot giving Levi a short, swift kick between his legs.

“Are you okay, Captain?” Eren asks, jumping to his feet as Levi grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. Eren’s chair tips over behind him and clatters to the floor, drawing the rest of the squad’s attention to the captain’s agony.

“I’m fine,” Levi croaks. “Just a cramp.”


	3. Confessing a Fetish

“This isn’t about that time I kicked Eren in the face, is it?” Levi asks, contorting in front of the mirror in his room, surveying the wounds Mikasa’s left on his back and ass, stripes of red and purple standing starkly against his pale skin.

"No," she says softly, almost bashfully. “Was I too rough?”

“No. I’ll live.” Levi smirks at her, then returns to his bed where Mikasa sits, nude and cross-legged, watching him. He climbs in and curls up next to her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Rub my back?” he asks. “It hurts.”

She does so, putting one arm around him and skimming her fingertips and palm over his heated flesh. “I thought you said you could take it,” Mikasa teases him.

“Just rub my fucking back, brat,” Levi grumbles.

“There’s the captain I know,” she says with a smile, then kisses the top of his head. They sit there for a few minutes, her hands roving over his bruised and abraded flesh, his lungs sucking in pained breaths whenever she touches a particularly tender spot.

“I don’t let just anyone order me around, you know,” Levi says after a few minutes. “Let alone let someone beat the shit out of me.”

“Did you like it?” Mikasa asks.

He chuckles. “I did, actually.”

“Could I…? Um, would you let me do it again sometime? I just, uh… um…”

“Out with it.” His words are harsh, but his tone is soft.

“It’s just… I like that. A lot. Being in charge. Giving out punishment. That kind of thing. I know I’m strong, but when I’m like that, I really feel strong. It helps me forget about everything that goes on outside this room. There’s no uncertainty here.” She sighs, then falls silent for a moment, looking down at her lap, at his arm splayed across her bare thighs. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not,” Levi says, putting one hand under her chin and guiding her until she is looking into his eyes. “How much do you like it?”

She says nothing then, merely grasps his hand in her own and maneuvers him between her thighs, where she is hot and slick for him. He does not need any prompting to touch her there, to stroke her until her breath comes in short little gasps.

“Glad to be of service,” he breathes against her ear. “What do you want me to do next?”


	4. Tying Up

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” Levi asks, squirming beneath the ropes that criss-cross over his chest and back, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Feel like what?” Mikasa looks up at him with an intent frown, trying to decide whether to start looping the unused length over Levi’s left or right thigh as she kneels before him.

“It itches,” he groans, twisting his body so the ropes scrape against his skin. He sighs at the brief moment of relief, then tries to scratch harder as the itchy feeling intensifies. “What kind of rope did you use?”

“I don’t know, it’s your damn rope,” she grumbles. “Stay still.”

“My skin looks red from here. Take a closer look?”

“It’s probably because you’re scratching at yourself.”

“Mikasa.” His stern Captain voice reappears, cold and hard as steel. “Please,” he adds softly.

She sighs. “Okay. I do think you’re overreacting, though.” She stands up to her full height and pushes aside the bit of rope that runs from Levi’s left shoulder to his right armpit, covering his nipple. He whimpers a little as the rope scratches against his tender flesh. “Shit,” she hisses. There is a faint stripe of red, irritated skin that runs along the same path, replicating the way the rope lay against his flesh.

“What is it?” Levi asks, a faint note of panic in his voice.

“Is it possible to be allergic to rope?” Mikasa starts pulling the knots loose, coiling the rope around one fist as she releases Levi, who scratches at himself viciously as soon as he regains the use of one hand.

“I might be allergic to whatever this shit is made of,” he grunts. “Fuck, this itches!” With both hands free he concentrates on raking his nails over his chest, arms, and back, creating smaller red stripes that intersect the rapidly darkening ones left by the rope.

Mikasa finishes removing the rope and places the tightened coil on Levi’s desk. “I think it’s just you,” she says, looking down at her hands. They remain perfectly unblemished as before. “I’m fine.”

“I think it’s only fair that you should help scratch,” Levi says, sitting on his bed, his nails still digging into his skin as he attempts to dull the itch that seems to be spreading all over his torso and arms.

Mikasa plops down next to him. “You’re just saying that because my nails are longer than yours.”

“And because this is your fault. Get to work.” He inclines his head and nods at her, motioning for her to focus on his back.

“It was your rope,” she grumbles, climbing behind Levi so she can better scratch him. She works in silence for a few moments before she stops, ceasing due to the sudden realization she has just had. “Wait, I thought I was supposed to order you around!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research and apparently abrasive natural fiber ropes can trigger an allergic reaction in people with grass allergies.


	5. Grinding

“Kenny is in here somewhere,” Levi says in a whisper before his squad enters through the gates of the abandoned castle. “Armin and Historia, wait by the entrance in case he decides to escape. The rest of you, pair off and follow me. Stay quiet and be quick. He won’t hesitate to kill you.” Once inside, Sasha and Eren decide to check the western wing of the building and Jean and Connie take the east before Mikasa can claim a partner. She curses silently, hoping Levi doesn’t sense her dismay.

“Looks like you’re with me,” the Captain whispers as he draws his swords and heads for the crumbling grand staircase. “Let’s check the second floor.”

“Yes sir,” she replies, then lets her face pull into a frown while Levi’s back is turned.

The first room is clear, as is the second, the third, and the fourth. As they traverse a long, narrow hallway, they hear a clatter in the distance, the sound of overlapping echoing footsteps, then the unmistakeable dry, brittle laugh of Kenny Ackerman.

“Let’s go,” Levi hisses. His hand shoots out and grasps Mikasa roughly around one wrist, dragging her down the hall, and through a small wooden door that she has to duck under in order to go through. Yes, it is a mild indignity to be dragged around in this manner, but she notes with a smirk that Levi did not have to stoop at all when he encountered the door.

They half-walk, half-run through an even narrower corridor, nearly black save for the slivers of moonlight that shine through the narrow openings in the stone wall. At the end there is another door, this one leading to a small closet. There is no other escape route, and the footsteps sound closer. Levi shudders, trying to remember the last time Kenny was able to get his hands on him. Having thwarted him before, he has no doubts that his one-time protector will make his death slow and painful. So Levi pushes Mikasa inside the closet then follows her in, closing and locking the door behind him.

The closet is smaller than he expected, and so when the door is wedged shut he finds that he cannot move. Mikasa’s back is pressed to the wall and he is pressed to her front, and there is not enough room for either of them to assume a different position.

“Why are we hiding? We should fight,” she hisses, and he claps his hand over her mouth before she can say anything else.

Levi stands on his tiptoes so his lips can reach her ear but ends up slowly grinding his body up against hers, feeling her breasts press against his collarbone, then his chest. “This is a dead end. Shut up or we die.” She nods silently, so he removes his hand from her mouth.

He cannot tell how long they are standing there, nearly pelvis to pelvis, pressing against each other. Whatever the length of time, it is enough for his mind to forget his fear and his adrenaline and the trickle of sweat that runs down the back of his neck and to focus on the sensation of Mikasa’s form against his. She is tough, hewn from muscle just like him, but this close he can feel the softness of her breasts and her hips, meager though they are. It is the first time he has been this close to anyone in a long time.

He doesn’t need Mikasa reaching out and squeezing his shoulder, first gently, then in a vise grip, to let him know that he is poking her with his erection.

“What the hell?” she whispers in his ear.

“Sorry. I can’t move.” Levi tries to spin himself around, but the closet is just narrow enough that he can only manage to get one shoulder away from her. In the near-darkness he thinks he can see Mikasa shrug.

He sighs, making sure to tilt his head back and exhale toward the ceiling so he doesn’t hit Mikasa in the face with a puff of his hot breath. At this moment, death by Kenny seems like a more pleasant option than death by embarrassment. Levi wonders how amenable Mikasa will be to the idea of forgetting this whole thing happened.

And then he feels it, a fleeting pressure against his aching groin. After a few minutes, he feels it again, pressing against him for a few moments. And then a third time, the slow grind of Mikasa’s hips against his, the khaki-covered ridge of his cock situated perfectly between her legs.

Levi looks up at her in alarm, and she’s smiling down at him.

Two can play at that game, he thinks, and starts rubbing against her, imitating her torturously slow pace. He feels her hand on his hip and stops, thinking she is about to push him away, but instead she slides her hand to the small of his back, her fingertips resting over the swell of his ass, and pushes him even closer.

They start off slowly, moving in tandem, but the unexpectedness of the situation, the thrill and anxiety of mortal fear that neither of them will admit, spurs them on, their hips pumping at a frenzied pace. This might be it, they think, so why not?

Just when he feels like he is almost there, just when he starts to calculate just how close Mikasa is to him and whether he will muss her uniform as well if he comes in his pants, there is a pounding on the door. They both inhale sharply, holding their breaths in. Levi stops moving, but Mikasa does not, thrusting against him until his hips start to jerk. She covers his mouth then, letting him gasp and bite back moans against her hand.

“Captain Levi! Mikasa! Are you in there?” a familiar muffled voice calls from outside. “It’s Connie. Kenny and his squad left. We gave chase but they were too fast.” Mikasa slows her movements but does not stop, wrenching every bit of Levi’s orgasm out of him, her hand still firmly clasped over his lips. “Yeah, we got cornered and locked ourselves in here. Is anyone hurt?”

“Just some bruises and scrapes. Nothing major. Everyone else is waiting in the main hall.”

Levi grabs Mikasa’s wrist and wrenches it away from his mouth, still breathing heavily. He swallows, then runs one hand through his hair, finding it soaked with sweat. “We’ll be down there in a few minutes. You can go on ahead. Thanks, Connie.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Connie says, and then there is the sound of his footsteps receding. Once the hall is silent again, Levi tangles his fingers in Mikasa’s scarf and stands on his tiptoes, kissing her fiercely, brushing his tongue against hers, biting her lips. She lets out a breathy moan, which only serves to encourage him, pushing her back even harder against the wall until she can feel the cold stone through her clothing. It doesn’t matter, of course, compared to the warmth of the Captain that covers the front of her.

“Should I do you?” Levi asks, tracing one finger down Mikasa’s arm to her hip, then sliding his hand over her pants, between her legs. Even though her layers, she is wet against his fingers.

“Everyone is waiting for us,” Mikasa replies, shivering under his touch.

The Captain shrugs. “Then let them wait.”


End file.
